Words

Our Family Doesn't Buy Cakes

Sweet Lil turns five today. I have no words to summarize my complex feelings about being her mother, nor reflections on her growing maturity and beauty. Where to turn, then, but to food?

The setting: Mother and daughter are walking through an unfamiliar grocery store.

Mother, reading list: spaghetti, Parmesan. Where's the Parmesan?
Daughter: Can I have a...

Mother, interrupting: Oh here it is. We're going to use already shredded cheese at your spaghetti birthday party because it will be easier. Ok?

Daughter: Uh huh.

Mother: Now, lunch meat. Do you really think you would eat lunch meat at school?

Daughter, spying the bakery case of decorated cakes: Hey, we could just buy a cake!

Mother: Our family doesn't buy cakes.

Daughter: Why?

Mother: Um, it's just not something we do. We like to make them ourselves.

Daughter: But those are painted! Can we paint mine?

Mother: Not really. Ours will taste better, though. Do you still want decorations from the cake store?

Characters move on to other shopping.

Lil was beaming as we sang happy birthday around her homemade, not-from-a-box-or-a-store cake. Devie tasted not a morsel, unlike last year's thievery. The chocolate on chocolate cake was a sweet end to a lovely party for our new five year old.

Does your family buy cakes? Do I really have a five year old kid already?